


Reparations

by supposed2bfunny



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: 2Doc AU, Demon 2D, Fallen Angel Murdoc, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, fallen angel AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 11:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18738511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supposed2bfunny/pseuds/supposed2bfunny
Summary: Inspired by the Fallen Angel AU comic by the super-talented Kairu!Murdoc offers to help repair Stuart's broken home. It quickly becomes apparent that some things are easier to fix than others, and some wounds run deeper than appearances would suggest.





	Reparations

**Author's Note:**

> In case it isn't obvious, I adore [ Kairu's Fallen Angel AU ](https://trashfrog99.tumblr.com/post/183362999975/chapter-1-reupload), and wanted to pay tribute! Figure that this story takes place not long after the comic ends. Feedback is always appreciated! :)

“Murdoc, what are you staring at?”

Stuart paused his morning routine to smile at the angel in bemusement. Murdoc had been standing in the kitchen for several minutes now, eyes fixed on something above the countertop, expression deep in thought.

In the months that Stuart had gotten to know the fallen angel—and in the past few weeks especially, since he’d glimpsed some of Murdoc’s memories and had a serious heart-to-heart with him, he’d become pretty good at reading the man’s facial expressions. 

This was not the listless expression he’d had in his first few days in Hell, the way he’d looked at Stuart but hardly seen him, face stone-like in its exhaust. Nor was this the look he had more frequently when he inevitably began to worry, caught somewhere between memories of Heaven, of the torture he’d endured, and of his expulsion. When he got like that, he tended to draw his lower lip between his teeth—Stuart had noticed the faint indentation that his teeth left on his lip—and his eyes flickered around more.

But since he’d seen Stuart at his most powerful and chosen to stay with him, since Stuart had bared his soul and been rewarded with shy but sincere affection, Murdoc’s expressions had begun to change. He smiled. Not frequently, but more often. Rather than following Stuart around until he was almost collapsing with exhaustion as he had done at first, he’d taken to softly pressing his cheek to the demon’s shoulder when he was tired, leaning his weight against him, and looking up at him out of the corner of his eye to communicate when he wanted to rest. That was a particularly adorable face.

And now there was this pensive look.

“I’m looking at the cabinet,” Murdoc answered.

Ah, his voice! He had the cutest, dry rumble of a voice, and after a month of being almost entirely mute, Stuart valued every verbal response he got, however brief his answers tended to be.

The demon walked up to stand beside the angel, their shoulders brushing slightly. Murdoc didn’t pull away from the contact. Stuart squinted, trying to see what the angel was looking at.

“Is there something you can’t reach on the top shelf? Do you see a spider? What’s so interesting, little angel?”

“It’s broken.”

Stuart’s smile fell. He’d become so used to his house literally being in shambles that he didn’t even notice anymore that it wasn’t normal. “Ah, yes. Well, I guess that’s my fault, isn’t it? That’s from back when…”

“When your old lover left you. You broke everything in the house.”

“Yes, I told you already, that’s right,” Stuart sighed, his wings fluttering a bit in agitation. It was awkward to discuss his old love life with his new lover. Well, if that was really what Murdoc was. They hadn’t really…defined what they were. Lovers, he supposed. Not that they’d done more than kiss and hold hands. He wasn’t used to taking it so slow with a partner, but he wouldn’t change their pace for the world. He glanced at the angel, who kept looking at the shredded cabinet, its wood splintered where his nails had reached it, a hole punched into it so its contents were visible even when it was shut. To his credit, Murdoc didn’t seem the least bit unhappy hearing about the demon’s former love life. 

“I… could fix it,” the angel offered in his quiet but certain way, and Stuart chuckled at the thought. 

“Oh really? How? You know anything about carpentry?” he challenged. “No offense, Murdoc, but you hardly seem strong enough to lift a hammer, let alone repair a broken—”

“Everything is broken,” he interrupted, turning to inspect the rest of the kitchen, the living room, the hallway. “Maybe it’s time to fix it. I can help. I’m pretty handy. I used to be…” he held his hands up, looked at his own palms, at his cracked and bruised nails, “used to be good with my hands. Before.”

It was the first time he was alluding to his past life, and the demon perked up at that. Still, he could read the uncertainty in the angel’s expression, the self-doubt there. He didn’t want to pry. “I suppose I could pick up supplies from town,” he mused. “But why? Why the sudden interest in sprucing the place up?”

Murdoc turned to look at him, his solemn eyes meeting Stuart’s with surprising intensity. “This is my home now too.”

“Oh.” He felt a blush creeping across his cheeks. “I’ll pick up everything you need from town this afternoon then so you can get started, okay?”

The angel nodded then, and the corners of his lips twitched as though he was going to smile. Instead, he made his way to the kitchen table where Stuart had left two cups of tea brewing, and picked up his favorite mug.

\---

 

In truth, he hadn’t really known what to expect. Stuart had picked up some solid panels of wood, nails, screws, and sandpaper. He didn’t want to purchase too much and overwhelm Murdoc. The angel was so fragile and weak; Stuart had no doubt that he would be struggling with this project. But then again, his angel never asked him for anything, so humoring him felt like the least he could do. 

When he returned home, Murdoc had removed the broken cabinet door and placed it, along with several other damaged items, by the back door to be thrown out.

“I have to go into the woods to collect firewood now,” Stuart explained as he watched the angel assess his purchases. “Don’t work too hard, okay?” a nod in response; he knew Murdoc was only half-listening. “And remember, Murdoc—” the angel snapped to attention at the call of his name, “if you get scared or need anything, I’ll sense it and come right back. We are connected, don’t forget that.”

“Yes, I know,” the angel answered, already turning back to his project. But there was a softness to his eyes when he said it, and his right hand traveled up to touch the side of his neck where Stuart had bitten him, sealing their contract, the day they first met. The demon closed the door, his chest feeling unusually tight. 

By the time Stuart returned, arms laden with branches for kindling, Murdoc had already sanded down and replaced the door to the kitchen cabinet. He’d also replaced the side of a bookcase and rearranged the books and trinkets there, so the items that Stuart had not destroyed could be displayed once again. There was a statue of a bat, a small vase that held pencils, a pair of brass cufflinks that sat in a small porcelain dish that had miraculously not been shattered. It was wonderful to see his treasures on display once more, and he flew over, admiring the angel’s work.

“I didn’t realize how bad it was starting to look in here,” he admitted. “But you’re making the house feel brand new. Murdoc, thank you. You’ve done a great job!”

The angel was still working, screwdriver in hand, tightening the handles on the kitchen shelves that Stuart had torn at months and months before. He looked pleased with himself, but exhausted, and Stuart was able to coax him out of the kitchen and into bed with little fuss.

“You’re still weak, my little angel,” Stuart murmured into his hair as he rubbed his shoulders soothingly, Murdoc melting under his touch. “I know you want to be helpful, but please don’t overdo it. You have a habit of passing out, and that really scares me.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Shh,” he kissed the top of his head. “It’s alright. Rest now. I’ll make us some tea, sound good?”

“Yes.”

He made sure Murdoc was comfortable, reclining against the pillows, before heading off to the kitchen. It never failed to amuse him, this role of servitude he so willingly subjected himself to. He would never have done something so subservient as make tea for his former lover. And now, something about looking at Murdoc, his bruise-addled face, his pronounced ribcage, the way he sometimes fell into a trancelike state, lips pressed tightly together and eyes looking off into middle distance—presumably reliving memories of his year of torture up in Heaven—something about all of these things made Stuart _want_ to care for him. Stuart had always been a bit cold-hearted. He knew this; it was expected of demons. Yet one weak, wounded angel under his roof and suddenly he was tapping into a protective side he’d never known he had. 

It was nice, this self-discovery, he mused as he set the water to boil, selected the tea leaves that Murdoc liked best (not that Murdoc had ever told that, but he’d figured it out in their time together).

Adapting to life with Murdoc was an adventure he’d never bargained for, and he was learning more about how wonderful it was to love, to devote oneself entirely. Sure, their contract had not panned out the way he’d expected it to. He didn’t get a servant at all. Instead, he’d gained a friend, someone who looked him dead in the eye without flinching, someone who made him feel that he was not alone, that he had _purpose_. That sort of hope was something he had long since assumed had abandoned him.

Could something as mundane as making a hot drink for someone mean that you loved them?

Because he was damn certain that he’d fallen in love with the angel resting a few rooms away.

The screeching of the kettle startled him out of his own reveries, and Stuart shook his head, grabbing the kettle and preparing drinks for them both. Carrying two mugs of steaming tea, he made his way back to the bedroom, sinking into the bed beside his companion and leaning into him lightly against the headboard, the tips of their wings brushed together, but neither of them moved away. They each held their drinks, letting their hands warm up and taking tentative sips.

“While we’re working together to redecorate, is there anything you would like to see in the house?” 

Murdoc’s shoulders twitched against his in a shrug.

Stuart chuckled. “Come on now. Surely you have some taste for interior design! I mean, you came here with no belongings…and…” realization dawned on him that he’d never once thought to buy Murdoc any new clothes or personal items. Though the angel lived in his house and slept in his bed, he literally owned nothing but the clothes off his back. Stuart had assumed when they’d made their contract that what was his would also be Murdoc’s, but now he realized that he’d also neglected to give the angel anything to call his own, any semblance of autonomy. His brows drew together in a wince: he still had a long way to go in learning to be a good friend, let alone a good partner.

“Maybe…some more books?” Murdoc spoke so quietly he almost couldn’t make out his words.

“Hm?”

“Another bookcase…and some more books.” Part of the reason Murdoc’s speech was so muffled was that he was speaking directly into his mug, lips pressed to the ceramic rim, taking tiny sips every so often. He stared across the room at the bare wall before them, perhaps envisioning a small library he could turn to in his leisure time.

“Do you like to read?” Stuart asked, concern at his poor social skills already replaced by delight at learning something new about the angel. Murdoc nodded minutely. “Then we’ll get more books. As many as you like! I’ll build a small library for you, and a reading nook where you can relax and spend your days lost in whatever novels you desire. Do you think you’d prefer an armchair? Or maybe a bench, something velvet-lined. Maybe a thick blanket too, since you get cold so easily. A candelabra would be nice so you could read at night—”

“That’s too much,” Murdoc interrupted his excited flow of ideas. “Just a bookcase. Would be nice. Thank you.” He smiled then, a tiny, quick twitch of the lips that he tried to hide by drinking more tea.

Stuart caught the look and broke into a wide grin. “Hey, Murdoc?”

“Hm.”

“May I kiss you?” he asked, offering his most charming smile.

Murdoc turned to look at him fully, a hint of color reaching his cheeks. For just a moment, his eyes flickered between the demon’s eyes and his lips. “You don’t have to ask,” he finally whispered, leaning up to bridge the space between them.

Stuart cupped the angel’s cheek in one hand, his palm warm from holding his ceramic mug. Gently, he tiled Murdoc’s head so he could kiss him softly, chastely. “Maybe I don’t,” he conceded, drawing back just enough to speak, their lips still brushing, “but I will ask every time. To hear it from you.”

Any retort the angel might have had was cut off by another kiss, and Stuart deepened it this time, kissing harder, mouthing at the angel in a way that had him gasping softly. His hand moved into Murdoc’s hair, tugging it lightly, and Murdoc keened, tilting into the touch, parting his lips to accept Stuart’s tongue, shivering and breathless with the attention. The demon hummed pleasurably as he drank in Murdoc’s taste, his noises, the way he handed himself over completely. 

Murdoc’s free hand landed on Stuart’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. Whenever they kissed, Murdoc never seemed to know quite what to do with his hands, but the demon hardly minded. It was enough to feel that connection, to know Murdoc wanted this, wanted _him_ , wanted to be there with him.

After a few minutes, Stuart pulled back, panting and flushed. Murdoc looked at him though his bangs, chest rising and falling, mouth wet and swollen, completely lost for words. At times like this, it took almost more self-control than Stuart possessed not to let the situation escalate, to dive back in for more, to see how much Murdoc was really willing to give him.

Instead, he leaned in, pressing a playful kiss to his angel’s forehead before sitting back more comfortably against the pillows. “Anyway, it’s going to look great in here, don’t you think?”

Murdoc blinked a few more times, composing himself, and then snorted a bit, following the demon’s lead and sitting back as well. “You’re strange,” he muttered. But his tone was unmistakably tender.

“Don’t be fresh because you want more kisses,” he teased, and Murdoc looked away with a pout. The demon stretched his legs out and tossed his hands up in excitement. “A beautiful bookshelf for you! A brand new kitchen! And hm…a mirror too. It’ll make the bedroom look bigger if we get a mirror and put it right…there!”

“Beside the dresser?”

“Yes! Don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Murdoc leaned over the demon, set his mug down on the bedside table and resumed his recumbent position, looking ready for a nap.

“You know something? I like building a home with you, my little angel.”

Murdoc smiled at the ceiling, crossing his hands over his chest. 

\---

 

Over the years, Stuart had come to dread going into town for errands. There had once been a day where he had lived in the village amongst the other demons, and to be reminded of his isolation was humiliating and painful. Now, knowing that he would be going home to Murdoc made him feel a little better. The bookshop was his first stop, and he was thrilled to run his hands over the spines of beautiful books on display: books describing the history of mankind up on Earth, books about theology, books about the stars. With no idea what Murdoc was interested in, he settled on a few of the largest, most ornate volumes available. Surely their beautiful appearance meant that they held the most interesting content! He approached the counter and slammed down his large, diverse collection.

“Stuart,” murmured the demon behind the counter, a white-haired man with spectacles who had been a collector of souls for centuries before retiring to work in the tiny shop in the village. His main hobby these days was sharing gossip about the secrets of the human world and the personal lives of local demons. He adjusted his glasses as though to make sure he wasn’t mistaken by the sight before him. “I haven’t seen you in ages. What a surprise!”

“Good to see you, Haagenti” he responded, reaching into his pocket and digging around for coins. 

“Didn’t take you for much of a reader,” the man commented. “I almost thought you must be someone else.”

_Fat chance_ , Stuart thought. He knew his blue hair and strange eyes made him unmistakable about town. Especially since also had such a bad reputation. “Well,” he shrugged, already uncomfortable with the older demon’s interest in him, “people can change.”

“Say, I don’t want to upset you but I simply have to ask, is it true, Stuart? Have you taken in that fallen angel that showed up a few months back?”

He winced in response. “Are people talking about that?”

“In a quiet village like this, that’s the most interesting gossip we’ve had in a century. So is it true? I’ve even heard whispers that you contracted him. Can that be? Some chutzpa you have, marking one of Heaven’s own.”

Stuart began placing the books into his satchel, eager to leave. He didn’t like the idea that others were talking about his angel, but he had to keep his anger in check. “The angel is mine now,” he said simply. “I don’t want anyone else bothering him or hurting him.”

“What good can a reject from Heaven be to you?”

Stuart took a deep breath, trying to keep his hands from shaking. Thankfully, Haagenti noticed, and held his hands up. “Sorry; I won’t pry. I do wish you’d tell us more about him! A part of me wishes I could have swiped him up before you did: I’d have my slave dusting this store until it shone! Bah, not everyone can be so lucky I suppose. But anyway, I didn’t mean to make you angry. _Ooh_ ,” his face lit up. “I know what will cheer you up! That soul-collector you used to hang around. Dark hair, nasty demeanor, what was his name?”

The image of his old lover, beautiful Murdoc with his terrible attitude and perfectly-tailored suits and his acerbic wit, flashed through Stuart’s mind, and he knew he had to leave. Haagenti was already speaking though.

“Well, he’s leaving Hell, for good. Have you heard? He’s made it official and quit his job and everything! The social pariah rejects the very community that gave him everything. Ungrateful wretch, I say. Did you say your goodbyes? I understand you two used to be quite… _involved_ with each other.”

“Goodbye, Haagenti,” Stuart said, practically running out of the store. He didn’t need to know. He didn’t _want_ to know. He’d apologized and made peace with ‘Mudsie.’ They had said their goodbyes right before that horrible day that Stuart had almost lost his angel. He had a new companion now. It wasn’t lost on him that his ex-lover and his angel looked almost identical and had the same name. And he’d certainly thought about the story he’d heard once, about how deeply connected Heaven, Hell and Earth could be. He’d considered that fate had brought him and his angel together, united them as a sort of second chance after he’d let his old lover down, been abandoned. It wasn’t simply coincidence that had brought a fallen angel named Murdoc to him right after he’d had his heart broken by another Murdoc.

He didn’t like to think about his old life with ‘Mudsie,’ the nickname he’d given the demon, who had always rolled his eyes whenever he was called that. It hurt to think about when he finally realized his lover had left and was not coming back. Then the guilt that had set in when he understood it had been his fault for how he’d treated the man he loved.

What good did it do to worry about the past, Stuart wondered, adjusting his satchel, heavy with all of the books he’d bought. What good did it do to think about the past when he should be focusing on enjoying life with his precious angel?

Next Stuart made his way to the same shop he’d previously purchased furniture from, as well as where he’d bought the wood paneling for Murdoc to replace his broken cabinet. It was run by a quiet woman who, unlike Haagenti, had no interest in the local town gossip. Riina, as she was called, didn’t seem to have much of an interest in anything at all. Stuart quite liked that about her.

Realizing that it was getting late in the day, the demon didn’t linger. Seeing no bookshelves that appealed to him, nothing fancy or beautiful, he settled on ordering one from a catalogue instead, which Riina promised she would have made by the end of the month. He expressed the dimensions he needed, the type of wood he wanted her to carve it from, the embellishments he wanted carved into it. This was a gift for Murdoc, so it had to be beautiful. It had to meet the highest possible standards.

He was on his way out when he passed a full-length mirror, literally stepping backwards to look himself over after almost walking right past it.

“This is lovely,” he said, admiring the wood paneling surrounding the glass, the dark stain used to make the wood almost red in hue. He’d gone so long without a mirror in his house that it was nice to be able to lean in and fix his hair.

Not that there was much that needed fixing. He looked pretty darn good, he thought, straightening his suspenders just slightly. “I’ll take this too.”

“Big spender these days,” she deadpanned, ringing him up.

“Yes, well, doing some home renovations,” he admitted, willing to open up a little more than he had been with Haagenti.

“I don’t care,” she said coolly, handing him his change and turning back to the sharp nails she’d been filing when he came in. So much for bragging about his improved living conditions.

Flying home with a heavy bag packed with books and a full-length mirror tucked under his arms had proved difficult. Several times, in his efforts not to drop any books or smash the mirror into a tree, Stu had flown face-first into a branch or a trunk. But finally he was able to push open his door and stumble in, eager to place the mirror down and present Murdoc with his books.

He was surprised to find Murdoc standing before the stove, making what appeared to be some sort of stew for dinner.

“Aw, Murdoc! Are you making a meal for me? I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Um,” the angel shrugged. “We’ll see how this goes.”

Stuart flew across the room, stopping right before Murdoc. “Not an expert in the kitchen, are you?”

“No,” he admitted. “But you were gone so long and it was getting late…”

“Shh, I know,” he soothed. “I’m sorry it took so long, I didn’t mean to make you fret. I think you’ll be pleased when you see what I’ve got here though,” he patted his bag. “But first, may I have a k—”

Murdoc grabbed him by the suspenders before he could get the full question out, yanking him down and kissing him.

Stuart felt his heart skip in his chest. In their time together, Murdoc had never initiated a kiss. Feeling so wanted made his head spin, and he instantly cradled the angel’s face in both hands, making up for the hours that they had been apart.

Several times, Stuart tried to pull back, but the feeling of Murdoc’s mouth on his was too addicting, and he dove back for more, only stepping back in earnest when his nose twitched. 

“Is something burning?” he asked. 

“Damn,” the angel hissed, rushing back to the pot he had been tending to over the stove, lowering the heat and mixing everything in the pot with a ladle. “Bottom burned a little bit…”

Stuart smirked. “No worries, my darling. I’ll have to go away more often if this is the greeting I get when I come home. I didn’t realize you’d miss me so much.”

He didn’t get a response: the angel only huffed a little and resumed his job of making dinner. 

“Anyway, I didn’t even get to show you what I bought. You said you liked to read, so look at these!” He set his satchel on the kitchen table and it shuddered under the weight. He made a mental note to fix that wobble at a later point in time.

The angel had perked up, stirring the pot but turning to look at the demon in disbelief. “You didn’t really—”

“I did! Books for my beautiful angel!”

Murdoc dropped the spoon in his hand to rush over, beholding the books with a look in his eyes that Stuart had never seen before. Tentatively, he ran his hands over the covers, tracing the gilt lettering. “These are…breathtaking,” he murmured. “They must have cost a fortune.”

“I get a stipend from the village,” Stu answered, beaming at the angel’s reaction. “Basically, I get paid not to go into town and bother other demons. Some consolation prize. But hey, not like I spend a lot of money on myself living all alone. I can afford to indulge a little for you.” He fought down the urge to ruffle the angel’s hair or squeeze his shoulder; Murdoc still tended to be skittish around sudden touches.

“You shouldn’t have done this for me.”

“I don’t know how many times I have to say it, Murdoc: I _want_ to. You’re very special to me, and making you happy makes me happy. I uh,” he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, “I have no idea what you like to read about. So I got a bunch of different things.”

“Astronomy,” the angel sighed dreamily, opening up the page of one huge book and revealing illustrations of constellations and planets. “And history books too! I can’t wait to read them. And is this…is this a book of fairytales?”

The demon shrugged. “Childish, maybe. But I thought the cover looked fun. I always loved fairytales. Sorry if you don’t like them.”

Murdoc looked up at him, eyes bright. “We can read them together.”

Stuart felt like he was going to burst. “Just to warn you, I’m going to hug you,” he babbled, stepping forward and pulling Murdoc into a tight hug. “No one’s ever made such a nice offer to me before! I would really love that! Wow, reading them together, that’s so sweet!”

Murdoc tensed up for just a moment, then relaxed against the demon, not quite hugging him back, but content to be held. “What’s that?” he asked after a moment.

“Hm?” Stuart stepped back and looked over his shoulder, following Murdoc’s gaze. He’d noticed the mirror, wrapped up in a tarp to keep it from scratching. “Oh! That’s for the bedroom! Wait till you see it,” he answered, skipping across the room and standing the mirror upright, carrying it awkwardly into the bedroom and chatting all the way. “I also ordered a bookshelf for you by the way, but that’ll take a little longer to get. So for now, this will freshen up the room nicely!”

Murdoc followed him down the hallway and into the bedroom, watching in interest as the demon used a sharp nail to cut the twine securing the tarp and gently pulled it back, revealing the beautiful mirror. He nodded in approval; as he had hoped, it instantly made the room look larger and nicer. The demon would never have realized just how drab and horrible his home had become, but now, he was delighted to be able to repair it bit by bit.

“Who’s that handsome guy in the mirror?” he joked, pointing to his own reflection and slicking his hair back. Murdoc rolled his eyes at the demon’s ego, but came to stand beside him. “Do you want to see yourself too?” He stepped out of the way and let Murdoc move in front of the glass.

The result was instantaneous: Murdoc’s eyes widened and his face fell.

“What’s wrong? Murdoc?”

The angel stumbled backwards, eyes still locked on his reflection as his hands rose to touch his face and his chest, lips sealed together tight.

“Murdoc!” The demon rushed over to stand before him. “What’s wrong? Please, tell me.”

The angel finally broke his gaze from the mirror to look at Stuart, and his eyes glistened wetly. His face was so pale the demon held his hands out, terrified that he was about to pass out. “I..I look like that?

“What do you mean? You look fine, Murdoc. Same as always.”

“Oh,” the angel whispered, reaching up and frantically trying to smooth down his messy black hair. But his hands shook and his movements were so jerky that his hair only looked messier when he finally stopped. His wings folded forward protectively, covering his shoulders and part of his torso. “I look awful.”

“No you don’t!”

“Stuart,” something about his soft voice was more alarming than if he were yelling, “how can you bear to look at me?”

As he spoke those words, he pulled his robe closed across his chest to hide the worst of his bruising, and something clicked in the demon’s head: this was Murdoc’s first time seeing himself since he had been tortured. What were the odds that anyone had held a mirror to the angel in Heaven to show off his wounds? And with most of the glass in Stuart’s home shattered, he’d never had much more than an incomplete, fractured image of himself if he’d happened to catch his reflection in a cracked window. Sure, he was aware of his wounds—Stuart knew that he suffered chronic pain from the bruises, burns, and lesions that covered his body. He watched Murdoc sit at the edge of his claw-tooth tub each evening, washing some of the scrapes that tended to bleed into his clothing. But despite how hard he worked to keep his injuries cleaned and bandaged, within hours he was always bleeding again, and the demon could remember the voice of an angel in heaven from when he’d briefly glimpsed some of Murdoc’s memories. 

_Your wounds will never heal…_

It must have been a shock, he realized, to be able to see all those wounds on his body all at once. The manifestation of his eternal punishment.

“Murdoc,” his voice cracked and he reached for the angel, distraught when Murdoc only jerked away, eyes still wide with horror. “Don’t say that. I care about you so much. Haven’t I told you that I find you beautiful? Your wounds don’t scare me—”

“I look like a nightmare!”

“ _I said_ , don’t say that,” he insisted, voice raising to match the angel’s hysteria, “Murdoc, calm down—”

“I’m not worthy of your patience, your affection, I look every bit like the disgrace that I am—”

“ _Enough!_ ” Stuart yelled, grabbing the angel’s shoulders in his agitation. He wasn’t angry at Murdoc, just frustrated with their inability to see eye-to-eye. But his lack of control over his temper was poorly timed, and he watched in horror as Murdoc shut down, body stiffening at his touch, lips sealing together, arms going limp at his sides. He was afraid.

Stuart leapt back, hands up to show he meant to harm. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. Oh please, my angel, don’t look at me like that I’m begging you!”

Murdoc only curled in on himself, face ashen, eyes unfocused. Stuart cursed himself for having bought the stupid mirror: just moments ago, Murdoc had smiled at him and offered to read books to him. What had he done?

“Please,” he said, keeping his voice soft. “Murdoc, I’m sorry. I never meant to upset you, and I didn’t mean to grab you just now. You know that I would never intentionally hurt you, you…you’re all I have in this world!” _And I love you_. Those words were on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t say it. Not here, not like this. “I’m an idiot sometimes, okay? I don’t always realize I’m doing things that might upset others. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’ll destroy the mirror, okay? Just please, please stop saying all those mean things about yourself, alright?”

Murdoc remained still, expression still pained. His arms were crossed tight over his chest, but Stuart sensed that if he tried to move forward the angel might try to run. So they remained, staring tensely at one another, Stuart finding himself very near-tears, Murdoc’s expression miserable.

“Do you think every moment we’ve shared together has been a lie?” the demon finally asked, feeling dampness gather on his eyelashes. “Every kiss, every time I’ve made you smile or held you close, do you think that wasn’t real?”

Murdoc drew his lower lip between his teeth, bit down hard, looked down at the demon’s shoes.

“Yes, I’m not _that_ stupid, I noticed all your wounds when I brought you here. And it was a little alarming that they never healed, but I don’t care, Murdoc. Because to me, all the bruises, the scars, they show me that you’re a fighter. I’ve seen your memories, haven’t I?” Now the tears were falling; he could feel them sliding, hot and ceaseless down his cheeks, but he didn’t stop talking, couldn’t stop. “I know you’ll never heal. I know your wings are black and your body bears those scars to mark you as a traitor. Guess what? I still chose you anyway. I wanted you in my life. The more I learned about you, the more I got to know you, the more I cared about you. I don’t care how you look! I don’t care that you were rejected by Heaven: I’m from Hell, Murdoc, I don’t give a toss about some cruel angels’ opinions of you! All I care about is you! You’ve survived so much, and it makes me so happy every day to have you by my side, to know that someone so brave wants to be my companion!”

He stopped to scrub the wetness from his cheeks with the back of his hand, embarrassed to be falling apart while Murdoc stood there, clamming up, keeping it all together. He looked beseechingly at the smaller man, desperately hoping that his words were getting through to him. After a moment, Murdoc took a cautious step forward, then another one. When he was close enough, he reached up and wiped a few errant tears from his eyes. Stuart’s breath hitched slightly at the gentle touch.

“Don’t cry anymore,” Murdoc requested, cupping the angel’s cheek in his hand for just a moment before returning to his previous position of crossing his arms across himself. “Please.”

“Do you believe me?” the demon asked. “Do you understand what I’m saying? Is it sinking in?”

He shrugged. “I have a hard time understanding,” he admitted. His eyes returned to the mirror, though he was no longer standing in front of it and didn’t have to see himself. “I don’t see how you feel something that looks so dreadful could be worthy of your time.”

“You’re not a some _thing_ , you’re a _person_ ,” Stuart corrected. “In that case, I’ll just have to redouble my efforts to make you realize each and every day how wonderful you are to me, how happy you make me!” That wouldn’t be so bad: he loved showing affection. This was a challenge he could handle. “I’d like very much to hug you now: would that be okay?”

Murdoc smiled softly then; there was still a nervousness in the corners of his eyes, and his body language was not relaxed as Stuart liked for it to be, but he nodded. “You really don’t have to ask every time—”

“Get used to it,” Stuart replied, pulling the angel into his arms and nuzzling his cheek into the mess of thick dark hair. Murdoc didn’t hug back, but he did slump against the demon, his wings slowly unfurling from behind him to encompass them both. The pain in Stuart’s chest loosened a bit then, and he knew they would be okay.

When he finally released the angel, Murdoc even dared to press a quick peck to his jaw. Stuart feigned indignation. “Hey! Ask me first!”

Murdoc smirked. “Strange.”

“Look who’s talking! I may be strange, but you just kissed me!”

“I suppose you’re right,” Murdoc allowed, and finally the tension was starting to dissolve from his posture, his arms loosening, his head held just a bit higher. 

“Come here a moment,” Stuart requested, moving back in front of the mirror and beckoning to the angel.

Murdoc looked uncertain, but his trust showed as he walked forward, tentatively placing his hand in Stuart’s. The angel guided him close so they could both look at their reflections, the demon holding his angel close, chin resting on the top of his head. Murdoc peeked out from Stuart’s chest, gazing wearily at the scrawny, broken reflection in the demon’s arms.

“I know you don’t like to be reminded of where you’ve come from, of what you’ve overcome, but can I tell you what I see when I look in this mirror?”

Murdoc’s grip on Stuart’s hand tightened; he nodded.

“I see two outcasts who have struggled and lost so much. But look, they’ve found each other. I see myself, Murdoc, and you know what? I’m proud of how much I’ve changed. You’ve taught me a lot about patience and listening. I’m…kinder now. Thanks to you. And look, I see you. Oh, my little angel, I see a being who has endured so much and never given up, I see a strong, brave, independent-minded soul who I respect more than words can say. Getting to hold you in my arms? I feel like the luckiest man in the world!”

“Stuart,” he murmured, face coloring.

“You’re going to say I’m saying too much, aren’t you?” he smiled down at the angel, thrilled to see that Murdoc was so flustered. “I’m not though. I wish I were more articulate, that I could say even more. Till you believe me, till you learn to see yourself as I see you.”

He wondered if he was going to get a kiss from his angel, but instead Murdoc buried his face in his neck and hugged him. Stuart beamed, hugging him tight, mindful of the bruises on his back, and careful not to ruffle his wings. They stayed that way for a long, long time.

At least, until they smelled burning and again Murdoc rushed to the stove to find dinner ruined, cursing under his breath all the time. Stuart intervened with a laugh, throwing together what he could find to make a meal for them both as Murdoc sulked. Ultimately, they settled into a more peaceful lull as Murdoc pulled out one of the books Stuart had bought for him and began to read. Stuart smiled, eyes on the meal he was preparing, listening to Murdoc’s scratchy voice reading, gaining confidence and excitement as the short tales reached their climaxes. The demon didn’t want the angel to see the happy tears in his eyes as he cooked, realizing how far they had come: how tender this domestic bliss could be. Cooking a meal as his lover read to him: he could never have dreamed of such a perfect moment.

Late evening found Stuart watching Murdoc sleep, curled up against him. Gently, the demon pulled himself free, moving as slowly as possible so as not to wake the angel. Murdoc sighed softly, but otherwise remained at peace. Once out of bed, Stuart glided across the room and scooped up the satchel he had used to carry his day’s purchases. Reaching into a zippered pocket, he removed a slim book that he’d bought for himself, one he didn’t want the angel to see.

Not yet at least. In the dark light, the demon squinted, struggling to read the book of spells, to find the section on healing spells and incantations. He flipped through pages, finally finding a few diagrams, some ingredients listed in a language he wasn’t familiar with. He was able to recognize at least some of the words: _cure, treatment, remedy_.

Murdoc whimpered in his sleep, arm shooting out to Stuart’s side of the bed, no doubt seeking comfort from a bad dream. With a flick of his wings, the demon was back beside him, letting Murdoc’s hand find his, watching the panic ease off of his face as his grip tightened on him. 

“Shh, I’m here, sweet thing,” Stuart cooed, and the angel relaxed, slipping back into a deeper sleep. With his free hand, Stuart continued to work through the book, taking stock of how many simple spells he would have to learn, how many enchanted products he would have to purchase, how long this would all take. He hardly understood some of the ingredients required. It could take months to translate and find everything he needed. Years, even. 

It would be done. “I’m going to heal you,” he whispered to the sleeping angel. “I don’t know when, but I promise, Murdoc. I promise.”


End file.
